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Cork board and pins. Untangled finagle dangling prettily. Lollygagging whatsits. And chocolate, messages on the inside, pinned up, all crinkly on the edges, with thoughts on Life. Unfinished quilt beneath, covering unused mirror, a dowry unwanted.

Here are the bits of Polish amber, lightweight, to string around my neck little less than tight.

There is an iris pendant from my grandmother’s collection. So much of the world to see and explore.

Here is a pearl like falling rain on slim chain. Ancient rose perfume in lotion I kept for needed times.

There is a golden leaf wrought in spider thin veins, all caught up in its own tangle and remembrances.

Here is a silver locket with patches of copper sheen and nothing in between to treasure or keep.

Here is a cylinder from Israel to hang about my neck, a culture I glimpse in pages but never see in life.

There is an abalone opaline dipped its edges alchezised, with no memory of origins or exodus.

Burnished silver dying dark and a rosy stone, near the Amazon? Of the travels I do not recollect.

And a drop of the sky near nighttime lights, glance off the jellyfish, fluttering candlelight and wine.

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